The Shooters (Presidential Agent 4)

"I told her that was God's reward for her unrelenting battle against the gambling hells of the Mississippi Gulf Coast," Masterson said.

"Don't mock me, Winslow!" she said. "But you'll notice what did happen to the casinos."

"Faulty argument, darling. Katrina also wiped out Jefferson Davis's home, and you know that he was a God-fearing gentleman always battling the devil and all his wicked works."

"That's right," General Wilson said. "I'd forgotten that. My wife and I went to his home twice when I was at Fort Rucker. That was damaged?"

"Wiped out," Masterson said. "Utterly destroyed."

"Then you were very lucky here," Wilson said.

"Yes, we were," Masterson said. "And thanks more to the charm of the salesman than any wise planning on my part, there were diesel emergency generators in place to kick in as they were supposed to when the electricity went off. When my cousin Philip flew in with emergency rations-that's his Bonanza in the hangar-he found us with Betsy and the Lorimers watching the aftermath of the disaster on television."

Wilson shook his head.

"You were very lucky," he said.

"You're an admirer of Jefferson Davis, General?" Masterson asked, changing the subject.

"We went to the same school," Wilson said. "At different times, of course." Then he added, very seriously, "Yes, I am."

"That's the right thing to say in this house," Masterson said. "From which my ancestors marched forth to do battle for Southern rights."

"And just as soon as the history lesson is over," Ambassador Lorimer said, "I'm sure Colonel Castillo would like to have our little chat."

"Why don't you take the colonel into the library, Philippe?" Masterson said, smiling tolerantly. "I'll send Sophie in with coffee and croissants."

"This way, Colonel, if you please," Lorimer said.

The library, too, would have been at home in Tara, except that an enormous flat-screen television had been mounted against one of the book-lined walls and half a dozen red leather armchairs had been arranged to face it.

And there was an array of bottles and glasses above a wet bar set in another wall of books.

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Ambassador Lorimer headed right for it.

"May I offer you a little morning pick-me-up from Winslow's ample stock?" he asked.

"No, thank you, sir. I'm flying."

"One of the few advantages of having a heart condition like mine is that spirits, in moderation of course, are medically indicated," Lorimer said as he poured cognac into a snifter.

"Churchill did that," Castillo said. "He began the day with a little cognac."

"From what I hear, it was a healthy belt. And he was a great man, wasn't he? Who saved England from the Boche?"

"Yes, sir, he was."

"In large part, in my judgment, because he put Franklin Roosevelt in his pocket."

"Yes, sir, I suppose that's true."

Lorimer waved Castillo into one of the armchairs and sat in the adjacent one.

A middle-aged maid wearing a crisp white apron and cap came in a moment later with a coffee service and a plate of croissants. Lorimer waited for her to leave before speaking.

"I was trained to be a soldier, Colonel," he said. "Are you familiar with Norwich University?"